Hagrid's Hunt
by She's my Morphine
Summary: a what if story about Harry's homelife before Hogwarts. Will Hagrid find Harry in time for the new year? Rated M for abuse, strong language, and angst.
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**{a what-if story about Harry's home life before hogwarts. and what if Hagrid was just a tad too late? All credit for characters goes to JK Rowling. That is my disclaimer. enjoy. remember to review.}**

"Filth! Utter filth boy! It's totally undercooked! Are you trying to kill my boy?" Vernon roared gripping the ten year old boy's hair.

This young boy had never been invited to eat with the family at the table. This boy at the age of ten, knew how to cook nineteen different meals, and he did. Three times a day this boy would cook for three people and eat the scraps. Tonight he cooked steak and mashed potatoes. His cousin Dudley enjoyed a juicy and rare steak. However, by his Uncle's standards, it was a bit too rare. Dudley never complained before. However this punishment wasn't as uncommon as the complaint. No matter what Harry did to make everything perfect, he was punished regularly every night.

Being dragged by the hair was only the beginning of the consequence ahead. Tears filmed over the boy's eyes as he felt his scalp burn with tension. Vernon forced him out of the kitchen and into the hallway. He led the boy to a cubboard by the stairs, Harry's pathetic excuse for a bedroom. Vernon violently opened the door and threw the boy onto his bed. Harry curled up into a pitiful heap of sobs. He clutched his sheets seeking a material comfort and escape. Though he could not see his day to day horror he could hear it and there was no escaping that. He could hear clearly, Vernon picking up the metal razorblade required to rest on his bedside table at all times. Harry couldn't bare to look at the thing so much as leave it out. That is how he found out that hiding it thoroughly enraged his guardian.

"It'll be four tonight. Do you understand?" Vernon grunted extending the razorblade to the crying boy.

Harry shook his head vigourously as he convulsed. It was only four tonight, that was still four too many. He detested the feel of the cold razor sliding across his skin, or the shar sting when the blood finally released from the corrupted flesh.

"You listen to me boy!" Vernon roared as he quickly gripped Harry's hair and pushed him against the wall. "You will face the consequences!" Vernon placed the razorblade into the boys shaking hand. Harry nodded submissively and held it accordingly to his wrist. A plan! A glorious plan. Eyes glowing with pure rage he had formulated some sort of plan!

_I will enrage him! I'll make him a real mess! It'll take Petunia forever to get the stains out of the carpet! _He thought cleverly to himself.

"Wipe that smug look off your face!" Vernon warned.

Harry quickly stopped smirking (he hadn't realized he had been.) He held the blade accordingly to his wrist. A plan! The end to this dreadful punishment! Vernon prepare to face questions! A ruined reputation! Prepare for a mess! A blood bath! Harry Potter would not linger for any more abuse...

However, Harry Potter did not escape the memory. He did not make the grand exit he had intended on making.

Very bright lights and a certain sterile scent were what the boy woke up to. As he surfaced from his coma he could feel the searing pain on his left arm developing. He brought in a long breath trying to subside the pain without crying.

"He's awake! Should I let him recooperate for a bit before we tell him?" one voice said from the left.

Before anyone could answer Harry mumbled, "Tell me what?"

"Of course you let the boy re-cooperate before you go about telling him!" a nurse scolded the surgeon at Harry's side.

"I just asked you 'tell me what?' Please answer me!" Harry growled. The nurse turned away frustrated with the stubborn boy she would have to take care of for the next week. She could for-see a whole world of arguments and trouble. Little boys always had a knack for making trouble around the hospital. Harry, with his messy hair, broken glasses, and scars, looked to be no different. But there was something different about this boy that shook the nurse up every time she looked into those pretty green eyes of his. _Poor thing. How could a boy his age even contemplate suicide?_

"Well son, do you remember anything from before you got here?" the doctor asked. Great, he answered Harry's question with another question.

"Well, I had just finished cooking dinner and..." Harry's mind went fuzzy for a moment. He stared off into space with a vacant expression that frightened the surgeon who had in his spare time watched too many medical shows.

"Hello? Snap out of it Mr. Potter!" The surgeon snapped his fingers to regain Harry's attention. The surgeon had called him "Mr. Potter." It sounded strange to Harry. More than likely because he had never been addressed with such dignity.

"Yes. I was going to die." Harry finally managed to sputter out. "So why am I here? Why am I still alive?" Harry asked angrily. He couldn't comprehend why he was still here, why he hadn't gone on to heaven or hell or even purgatory.

"Your aunt and uncle rushed you to us as soon as they could. That's where some news comes in...I would call it good news, I think you will too," the surgeon rambled on.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked. Harry was stuck on the part about Uncle Vernon rushing him to the hospital. He was almost certain that he would just bury Harry in the backyard to cover up his tracks. _"Let him die, one less mouth to feed!"_ he imagined Vernon saying to a crying Aunt Petunia.

"Your uncle had tried to play it up as though he hadn't known you were slicing up your wrists and thinking about suicide. I just can't believe that, you are eleven years old. There's no way. Other injuries you have don't correspond with that story!" The surgeon seemed proud of his detective work. Harry was still confused. The surgeon, Dr. Harris was his name, continued his heroic story about fixing up his wounds and having a nurse call social services. Long story short, the Dursley's were in jail for child-abuse, and Dudley and Harry would be placed into the foster care system.

Harry was a little frightened. Would he be placed in with Dudley? Dr. Harris assured him that it was highly unlikely. Social services would want to detach him as far as possible from those toxic memories. Where would he go? That was something that Dr. Harris could not tell him. He could tell Harry how long he would be in the hospital and all about the surgery he'd undergone and how he fluctuated between life and death, but he couldn't tell Harry about his future. Dr. Harris was trained to save lives not rebuild them.

That night, Harry was placed on suicide watch. Dr. Harris knew it was unlikely for Harry to make a second attempt. Harry had wanted a way out of the household that was imprisoning him, not life itself. However Dr. Harris always followed protocol. He couldn't afford any slip-ups. Dr. Harris had made too many before. His attachment to patients lead him into big trouble. So cameras were set up in Harry Potter's room and security watched them intently. Harry slept soundly the entire night.

In the same midnight that Harry fell soundly to sleep in a nearby hospital, Hagrid stood astonished in front of the Dursley home. His large mouth gaped open and his big brown eyes welled up with tears. Crime scene tape. What had happened to his boy?

_**To be continued...**_


	2. Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**{chapter two of Hagrid's Hunt. DISCLAIMER: JK ROWLING HAS ALL CREDIT FOR CHARACTERS. Remember to review.}**

One in the morning was a bitter hour for Rubeus Hagrid. He was positive that neighbors that had already been staring at the spectacle, were concerned about the large man that had lingered at the crime scene for over an hour. Hagrid was heavily dressed despite the humid summer night. He stood out, dressed in several large robes. Hagrid could feel up to thirty eyes watching him, but at the same time felt totally isolated.

Hagrid could still remember the night that they were to drop Harry off on the Dursley family's doorstep. Harry was sound asleep when Hagrid placed him gently in the basket on the front of a motorcycle that Sirius Black had recently given him. Harry's God father was in a hurry to get rid of the bike, at the time Hagrid could be nothing but grateful. He remembered how quiet the ride was. The skies were clear so he needed to be careful, he turned off his headlights. Every now and then he would peer into the basket and catch a glance of the little scar across the infant's forehead. This baby had been through hell, and in this instant he looked so peaceful. _ Poor oblivious child. _In the previous days Hagrid had grown oddly fond of this child, enough to raise him on his own, however he could not. It tore him to pieces. Leaving him in the cold, on that doorstep was the worst of all though. He hid in a neighbor's bushes to see if Vernon would come out and pick him up. He would not leave that baby's side until he knew it was safe.

Tears filmed over Hagrid's eyes at that thought. _I've left his side, and now look what's happened!_ He fell to his knees in front of the house in the middle of the empty street. Hagrid buried his face in his hands and proceeded to sob loudly for the remainder of the morning. He would finally grab a hold of himself at four in the morning. He would pick himself up off the street that was progressively starting to get the traffic of early risers. He would take one last look at the crime scene tape and decide he needed to take action. He would find out what happened that night, and Harry Potter would be inducted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

In a near-by hospital Harry Potter had woken up from a nightmare. That damned green light, that woman's scream, and finally all of the abuse he had endured. He had night sweats and was breathing heavily. He no longer cared that he could never comprehend the first half of his nightmare. He assumed it had something to do with the car-crash that killed his parents. Obviously, the green light was a traffic light. Right? He shook his head and signaled for a nurse.

Nurse Hemingway came rushing in as as quickly as possible. As she stumbled in through the door, Harry gave her an odd look. It was clear to Ms. Hemingway that Harry was unharmed. So why had he signaled her?

"I'm hungry," Harry informed her.

"So you're saying you'd like something to eat?" the nurse asked.

"Yeah. Please?" Harry decided to add.

"Okay. Well what would you like to have for breakfast dear?" Nurse Hemingway's first name was Telle, a name Harry would begin to use quite regularly over the week. She was about fifty-seven years old, she had two children and four grand children. She was a single mother who adored children to the point where it became her profession. She loved spending time in the hospital's clinic looking over children with sprained ankles, and runny-noses. She didn't mind catering to kids one bit; in fact it was her passion.

"I like scrambled eggs and bacon," Harry replied. "May I please have that for breakfast?"

So polite. "Of course you may," was Telle's jovial response. The boy hadn't been as much trouble as he looked. Looking into his eyes the scarred up boy who wanted to die faded. When Telle came back and placed the tray of food in front of the boy she could see him trying hard to hold back a look of surprise and disapproval all at once. "What's wrong with it?" she asked.

"It's...so much. I'm not sure if I'll be able to eat it all. It's like a feast!" Harry pointed out. Two eggs contributed to the meal, and three pieces of bacon. Telle had not taken the time to notice just how skinny the boy was. She teared up and threw her arms around the boy. After all he'd been through she thought he needed a hug. Harry however was confused. "What are you doing!" he shouted. Harry had never been hugged before. By the end of the week, he couldn't get enough.

Police weren't talking about what happened that night on Privet Drive. Hagrid couldn't for the life of him get any information out of them. He claimed he knew one of the boy's that lived there and was concerned about his safety. "The big one or the victim?" they asked. Victim, the word shook Hagrid like an earthquake. That could mean anything. It was either injured or dead; he hoped to God Harry had grown to be fat. It wasn't likely. He remembered Harry's parents. He would have grown up with a high metabolism. Hagrid couldn't get anymore information out of the police. It was time to talk to neighbors.

Neighbors all had the same frightening story. They had seen Vernon carry the limp body of a boy into the back of his car and drive off. They had no further details on where he'd driven off too, or what had happened to the body. Most neighbors wouldn't even answer the door to him. (He was a big fellow and they were afraid to let him in.) The information they could have known and decided not to share with him scared him most of all. Not being able to know, it was the worst feeling of all.

No matter what happened Hagrid refused to go to Dumbledore with this information. Albus had enough to worry about, with the school year coming closer. Dumbledore was relying on Hagrid to bring Harry back to Hogwarts to become as great a wizard as his parents. He looked forward to harboring the prodigy to be. A famous wizard learning at HIS school! Albus was nothing but optimistic.

Three days after the incident news reporters finally started talking about the incident. They began holding interviews at Privet Drive on the rainy afternoon, Hagrid had decided to spend at a local tavern. The tavern T.V. reported that Harry was still alive and currently under suicide watch at the closest hospital.

_Oh, Harry what have they done to ya?_


	3. Chapter 3

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**{chapter three of Hagrid's Hunt. DISCLAIMER: JK ROWLING=ALL THE CREDIT. Hope you enjoy. Remember to review}**

Harry Potter had shown tremendous improvement over the week. He had regained his strength and even developed a healthy appetite. His bruises were beginning to vanish, but the scar he inflicted would never fade. He was a good patient and it was always a pleasure to see him. He had only one moment of rebellion during his recovery:

Nurse Johanna Smith had come to apply clean bandages to his wound. Harry wouldn't have it. He threw a temper tantrum saying he would only let "Ms. Telle" treat him. Nurse Smith was surprised at his informality towards the other nurse, he had always been so rigid and polite with other doctors. He refused to accept the new bandages saying: "I'd rather my wound get infected than take bandages from a strange lady who doesn't even look old enough to work here!" So it was settled. Telle came into work just to wrap bandages around that boy's arm. Harry was pleased.

Harry was an orphan. Even in the custody of the Dursley's he was an orphaned child. His definition of a family did not match that of his relationship with the Dursley's. He squatted in their house and worked for them. He was an orphaned servant. With Telle by his bedside, Harry, began to feel less and less orphaned. He would often cling to her clothes if ever she tried to leave him. "I got other stuff to do sweetie, but don't worry I'll be right back," she would say. She was conflicted about leaving his bedside; he always grabbed her clothes with the scarred up arm.

Dr. Harris would step in every now and then to check on the wound's development, but eventually he became a regular in the room. He would take over when Telle was called in by other patients. Harry enjoyed Dr. Harris' company. Dr. Timothy Harris always tried his hardest to relate to Harry; but he didn't necessarily need anyone to relate to. Harry just wanted to make conversation. He liked talking to Dr. Harris about sports, something Harry knew virtually nothing about. Dr. Harris taught Harry all about rugby and football (soccer). Later on Harry would find a sport to be passionate about.

However Hagrid had to find him first. The media had released which hospital was harboring Harry, but he was having a hard time at the front desk. Visitors were limited, and Hagrid could provide no proof that he was related to the boy in any way. Relatives could step up to take the boy home, but no one had visited in the passed four days he'd stayed at the hospital. Even after the information was sent out to any known relatives or presented in the media, no one showed up to claim him. Harry Potter's muggle story was tragic enough.

He tried his hardest not to take no for an answer. "I'm a family friend," he tried. Reluctantly the allowed him in. It's not like he would get custody without documents stating him as the next in line for his legal guardianship. Hagrid strode into Harry's room and was shocked at how the boy had grown!

"Hiya 'arry. Now how'd you end up 'ere?" He asked.

Harry's first impression of Hagrid was. _My God this man is a giant!_ "How do you know my name?"

"Now c'mon 'Arry! I've known ya since ya were a baby!" Hagrid noticed the boy looked horror-stricken. "Don't ya worry! I was a friend of your parents!"

"You knew my parents?" Harry's eyes widened with questions. "What were they like?"

Hagrid tried to find the right words to sum up his intentions and an answer all in one. "Your father was the greatest wizard I ever seen. Your mother too 'Arry." He smiled. Harry was confused.

"A...a wizard?"

"Yes. What you never knew?" Hagrid asked. Harry shook his head. Hagrid was appalled. "You mean to say those muggles never told you?" He asked.

"What are muggles?"

"Non-magic folk."

"Magic?"

"Yes 'Arry! Look long story short you're a wizard!" Hagrid remarked getting impatient.

"A what?"

"You're a wizard 'Arry! Look, I'm 'ere for a reason." Hagrid pulled a letter out of his pocket. "'Eadmaster Dumbledore is sending out letters for the next year at 'Ogwarts."

"What's Hogwarts?"

"Let me finish. 'Ogwarts is just THE best wizarding school in 'istory! Where your parents learned it all! You 'aven't been gettin your letters 'Arry. Those muggles been hidin' em from ya, I can tell."

By now Harry was frightened to death. Was this person a madman? Everything he uttered was total nonsense and he had this really thick accent, and beard and looked like a giant! The shadows on his face were ominous and lit up his big dark eyes. Just outside the door, beyond the big mass of man that was spitting out nonsense about wizardry, was Telle. He yelled for her. "Telle! Telle! Help me! This man is scary!"

Telle bustled in scooting passed the large man standing in front of the door. "What is going on here?" she demanded looking sternly at Hagrid. Hagrid was a good four feet taller than her. Somehow her presence startled Hagrid beyond his own comprehension.

"I'm an old family friend! I knew 'Arry's parents!" Hagrid explained.

"I don't even know how he knows my name! I've never seen that man in my life!" Harry accused.

"Well they died when you were but a wee baby now didn't they 'Arry?" Hagrid pointed out.

"Your crazy!" Harry yelled.

"Get on out of here, I think Harry needs to rest!" Telle commanded. She pointed out the door. "Visiting hours are here-by over!"

Hagrid left with his tail between his legs. He would try again later, but he could never talk down to a lady.

Harry was relieved but within a few hours very conflicted. He couldn't understand how that man had known so much about him. If he was a family friend, how come he never stepped in and saved him from his nightmare? If he knew his parents so well why couldn't he take him away? Anger boiled in his blood. How dare that man besmirch his parents names with nonsense stories of wizardry?


	4. Chapter 4

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**{chapter four of Hagrid's Hunt. DISCLAIMER: JK ROWLING=ALL THE CREDIT. Hope you enjoy. Sorry it took awhile to update. I've been on vacation for a week with one of my greatest friends in the OBX. :) Remember to review}**

Five days into Harry's treatment, complete strangers began to visit him regularly. Parents in the foster care system from all around came to visit him and learn his story from his point of view, not the media's. Harry always requested that Telle be in the room with him when he was being visited. It made the visits less awkward and frightening for the boy. It was difficult for Telle to hear the boy repeat his stories in such vivid detail. By the third visit she grew frustrated and disturbed with Harry's detachment from his own abuse. Five days ago the boy was ready to commit suicide, and now he sounded as though he had done something any normal human being would do in his situation. No regret, no depression, absolutely void of any emotion at all. Soon she realized that it was difficult for the boy to feel strongly about something that was so routine to him. She sympathized; how could the abuse have gotten so far?

One couple that could not have children themselves were very interested in having Harry in their home. However the meeting was unsuccessful to say in the least. The couple in their thirties walked into the room looking impressive. The mother was a ebony haired Hispanic woman in a pretty pink dress most likely her Sunday best. She had freshly manicured nails and a pleasant perfume on. The father was standing tall at 185 inches. He looked like the ideal father. The type of guy that would play ball with his son if he could have one...but that was just it. His eyes fiercely radiated frustration with his incapability to have a child of his own. It was easy to see that he was less than enthusiastic about taking in someone else's child. However, Richard Jones would do anything to make his wife, Gloria, happy. They sat down in the two chairs set up beside Harry's hospital bed.

"Well hello there. My name is Gloria. Gloria Jones," the woman started with a warm smile.

"And I'm Mr. Jones," the man introduced himself highly contrasting with his wife's more informal approach. His sense of detachment made the surroundings very awkward.

"I'm Harry," the boy introduced himself. The most informal introduction of all.

"So why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself sweetie?" Gloria inquired.

Harry thought for a moment. "Well, I'm ten years old but I'll be eleven this July! I have two loose teeth left..." he paused there remembering how he had lost most of his teeth, by force. "I got here about five days ago and heard that my uncle was sent to court. I'm not lonely though, Miss Telle's been keeping me company. She's a real lady!" This comment made Telle blush and Gloria giggle. Mr. Jones stayed still, staring intently at the boy as he described himself.

"What kind of things do you like?" Gloria kept the conversation moving.

Harry took another moment to think of a good answer. "I guess I like to cook. I cook a lot. I haven't had to cook once here though and that's been a pretty fun vacation." Telle was appalled that he referred to a hospital stay as a vacation. "I like playing outside when I get the chance. I like the sun. I like reading whatever I can get my hands on too." Harry couldn't think of anything else. He never really indulged in any activities. "Tell me about you, please," he decided he would change the subject.

It was Gloria's turn to put some thought into her answers. "I like to cook too. I have all kinds of recipes for really spicy stuff, and some sweet things like cookies and cakes too. Maybe we can cook together sometime."

"No son of mine is gonna waste his time in the kitchen!" Mr. Jones intervened.

"Don't be ridiculous Richard! The boy likes to cook! That's something we need to encourage!" Gloria exclaimed.

"Now son, don't you think that cooking is a woman's work?" Richard asked Harry.

"My aunt Petunia never cooked. It was always my job," Harry shrugged off the sexist remark.

Richard shrugged off Harry's answer. "No son of mine will have to cook!"

"Then I won't be your son," Harry answered flatly.

"Harry, don't be so irrational. You'll get to cook! Richard tell him he'll get to cook!" Gloria pestered her husband with a tap on the arm.

"Look honey he's just not what we're looking for," Mr. Jones whispered to his wife. With his bed right beside their seats, Harry overheard.

"Mrs. Jones, I'm sorry. You're a very nice lady but your husband doesn't like me very much."

"Tell him that's not true!" Gloria prodded her husband to no avail. The argument commenced back and forth between the couple. Soon they began speaking freely about the boy as if he weren't even there.

"The boy's just too DAMAGED!" Mr. Jones finally concluded.

Harry began sporadically pressing the service button at his bedside. "Harry stop it!" Telle advised.

"No! I want them to go away!" Harry argued.

"Harry it's okay! Richard and I are done fighting. Why don't we keep talking?" Gloria persisted desperately.

Harry pressed the button in tune with the syllables: "No! No! No! No! No!" Within minutes the room began to flood with nurses in disarray over what the boy could have required. It was mayhem that was overwhelming Gloria.

"Come on sweet heart we're leaving!" Mr. Jones finally put his foot down dragging his wife out of the room by the hand. Satisfied Harry dismissed all of the disgruntled nurses and the few doctors that worried that the boy was issuing his own code blue. Visitation rights for Harry's room were thereby closed for the day.

Little did Hagrid, who had arrived at the hospital too little too late that day for visitation, know that his days were limited. Harry was being visited by several parents in the foster care and adoption systems that were very interested. Harry hadn't yet hit it off with any of the families but he was sure too. For someone who was rarely socially active, he was very charismatic.


	5. Chapter 5

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**{chapter five of Hagrid's Hunt. All credit goes to JK Rowling. Thanks to Cassandra30 for reviewing and pointing out a useful plot turn. Readers your input is always valued! Remember to review for this special therapeutic episode of Hagrid's Hunt.}**

Two days after the incident with Mr. and Mrs. Jones, Harry was told he'd be staying at the hospital for another week. The boy was even given a new hospital room seeing as he was no longer required to be in the ICU. At first he was scared to move because he didn't know if Telle worked strictly ICU or not, but she assured him that she loved visiting the children's wing every now and then and she would make it a point to see him very often. Feeling confident, Harry, allowed himself to be moved into a new room that was strangely decorated.

The curtains were decorated with giraffes, something that Harry found more unsettling than comforting which he assumed was it's ideal purpose. A boy who had gotten into a car crash remarked he had curtains at home just like them. That boy was in shock; he'd noticed the curtains but not yet accepted the fact that his parents had died in that same car crash. Harry sympathized with him; the boy had the chance to know his parents. It was bound to be more difficult for a boy that could have the chance to miss his parents.

"But enough about Roger, Harry. Let's talk about you," Dr. Neil tried for the fifth time to redirect the conversation.

"Roger's case is so much more interesting though," Harry avoided talking about himself. Much like Roger he didn't want to confront his situation.

"Roger is a very interesting young man Harry, but not everyone faces your kind of abuse. I want to talk to you about it so that I can assure some sort of closure with the foster or adoptive parents you'll be with," The child psychiatrist insisted. "When did Mr. Dursley start making you cut yourself?" he asked quite bluntly, sensing that Harry wasn't the type of kid that stood for beating around the bush.

"When I turned eight," Harry answered flatly.

"What was the abuse like before then?" Dr. Neil attempted.

"Run of the mill stuff like beatings. Sometimes he would lock me out of the house on rainy days and order me to stay there and 'think about what I've done.'"

"So he isolated you sometimes?" he prodded.

"I'm used to being alone. I enjoy it every chance I get. Whenever I was around him he was just screaming at me about something I wasn't doing right. I guess I preferred being alone," Harry answered honestly.

"Tell me about Aunt Petunia. Was she very affectionate?"

"She was very overprotective of Dudley. She wasn't very sweet to me though. Some of the things she said were worse than Vernon's remarks. Mostly stuff about my parents."

"Harry, what were your parents like?"

Harry looked down at the carpet. "I never knew them. They died when I was a baby, in a car crash. That's just it. Aunt Petunia will say terrible things about my parents; and I don't know if it's true..." Harry's fists started to shake and he started choking on his tears. He didn't want to talk about this stuff anymore.

"What kind of things would she say about your parents, Harry?"

"She would call my mum a witch, and that I'd be just as bad as her," Harry refused to look Dr. Neil in the eye.

"Harry how would you describe your childhood before you came to the hospital?"

"Wretched is a good word for it I guess."

"Harry, there's another really important question I have to ask you. Why did you want to kill yourself?"

Harry took a deep breath before he decided to continue. "The same reason anyone else tries to kill themselves. I didn't wanna live there anymore. I couldn't run away. I just wanted it to end." It was very difficult to sustain the same amount of disinterest in his own abuse around Dr. Neil as he had with the visiting foster parents. The psychiatrist's barrage of unorganized questions had broken him down into a puddle and for the first time in his life Harry felt like a child. "And I didn't just want it to end I wanted to get Vernon in big trouble. I wanted him to be put away for murder! I wanted him to pay for everything he did! Petunia too!" he sobbed.

Dr. Neil was astonished with the level of intensity wrapped up in the young boy. The boy was willing to kill himself to get revenge on his guardians. He certainly wasn't stable enough to be put into the system yet. He wasn't ready for a new family full of strangers, and a new house. Harry needed time to be comfortable with himself. The boy had been ready to die, and now he was left with the eternally aching question: _"Now what?"_

Dr. Neil took a breath and chose his words wisely. "Harry, do you still want to kill yourself?"

"No," Harry answered without skipping a beat or taking a moment to think. He was shocked by his own answer and smiled a bit. "No I don't. There's no point anymore. Vernon's in trouble and I don't ever have to go back to that house ever again! I didn't know people could be as nice as Miss Telle!" Harry exclaimed.

"Harry how would you feel about going into a nice new family?"

"Scared," Harry answered honestly.

"Why?"

"I don't wanna." Harry was plain and simple shaking his head.

"Well you're going to have to eventually Harry, you're a minor! Now why not?" Dr. Neil asked.

"I just don't want to okay!" Harry screamed at the therapist. "I don't wanna go anywhere! I don't want some strangers asking me to call them mom and dad! I don't want fake siblings! I don't want to!" Harry paced the room back and forth and the walls seemed to be closing in. He stopped in a corner and sat there shaking and hyperventilating. He refused to make eye contact and fought , he didn't want anyone to touch him or even talk to him. He was crying uncontrollably. Dr. Neil decided that this session was over and walked the boy mid anxiety attack to his hospital room and called for Miss Telle to sooth the boy. He'd gathered that she was the only one who could do such a thing.

The exhausted child psychiatrist trudged back to his office after tucking the shaking boy in. He looked down at the file he had on Harry James Potter and picking up the clipboard and pen, checked off: _"Not ready for dispatch." "Denial." _and wrote down _"is prone to tantrums followed by anxiety attacks when stirred up."_ Shaking his head he called in the next child. A little girl who'd lost the use of her legs in a tragic drive by shooting. Today might be the longest day of Dr. Neil's life.

Dr. Neil's routine went as follows:

He would spend all morning trying to fix broken children, lunch break, back to emotional repair and damage control until the day was done. He would trudge back to his flat and cook himself dinner if he had the strength to. Then he would go straight up the stairs, brush his teeth, slip into his tempurpedic mattress, but never before stroking the photo of his deceased son on his nightstand. If anyone knew what it was like to lose everything it was Dr. Neil. He'd lost his mother, his son, and his wife divorced him soon after the tragic death of their little boy. But with that loss, in the morning Dr. Neil remembered the hope he had found and spread to children like himself; who had lost everything.


	6. Chapter 6

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**{chapter six. I'd like to thank all my readers for their support of this story. I didn't plan for it to go this far, it was something I popped off the top of my head to break my funk though I'm thankful it's catching up with my Twilight stories. DISCLAIMER: All credit for the characters goes to JK Rowling. Except for Telle, Dr. Neil, and all foster parents, those are mine. Remember to review! Love ya.}**

It was Dr. Neil's second session with Harry James Potter and it appeared to be off to a better start than yesterday. The boy was calm again and had come to Dr. Neil on his own will. He needed know pestering from Ms. Telle, he just wanted to talk. Dr. Neil was excited to hear what Harry had to say. He was eager to see how he'd gathered himself since yesterday and what new conclusions he'd come to about himself. He wondered if Harry had been pondering on all they'd covered. He was a smart boy after all.

"Harry, how are you today?"

"I'm okay. I slept pretty good. Miss Telle and I had a really nice breakfast and I got to play with some of the other kids. Did Roger finally figure it all out? I didn't see him," Harry asked.

"I'm afraid so," Dr. Neil answered. "So I see your coping well."

"I still don't want to live with a new family."

"All I'm asking is that you talk to these families Harry." Dr. Neil reached into his bag and pulled out a black notebook. "I want you to document your feelings as they progress in this notebook. Whatever you feel like writing, your feelings about the parents that come to visit you, about how your condition has progressed while you've been in the hospital, anything really."

"Okay," Harry agreed.

_I got a visit from some new parents today. They weren't the type of people I'd like to go home with. They don't seem to enjoy themselves enough. I'd like parents that aren't afraid to enjoy themselves. I wouldn't want my parents to be too wrapped up in work to have any fun. I'd like a mother who likes to garden and cook all kinds of food. She'd let me cook with her whenever I wanted to help, and teach me all kinds of new things. Maybe I'd even help her garden sometimes to be nice. She'd read too. Maybe her and I could read together every night._

_I've never really had an interest in a father. If I were to have a father I'd like for him to be well educated and have a job that wouldn't wear him out too much. I'd like for him to be able to build stuff. If anything I'd want a father to teach me how to be a good man and to make my mother happy._

_I often wonder what my parents were like and if they fit my fantasies. I like to think so. I like to think that my parents were a happy couple who were ecstatic when I was born. i like to think that they'd take good care of me and work together as equals. I'd like to think that my mama would cook every morning and my daddy would bring her fresh cut flowers. A stable home you know? Everything I've ever seen in magazines. I dream about it sometimes. The only realistic perception about my parents I have is that car crash and it makes me really sad. I don't know who they were and what life I could have had._

Dr. Neil read Harry's first entry and felt his heart sink. Harry had all his life been exposed to what society accepts as a perfect family, but could never live in it. He'd never had the chance to know his own parents and it was eating him up inside. Tragic was a good word to describe it. His second entry was a little more cheerful.

_I've decided that I want a mama that's just like Miss Telle. She's the nicest lady I've ever met. She takes such good care of me. She'll play games with me when I'm bored, she comforts me when I'm sad, and when I'm in pain she makes it go away without any medicine. She doesn't talk down to me like I'm a child. She compliments me and tells me funny stories about her other sons. They always make me laugh, _the entry read.

Examined in depth it was plain to see that Harry had a desire for family, but was afraid to embrace it. It was a big leap from a home like his and foster care. Furthermore the boy was going through it totally alone, no good memories to accompany him. Not a single one. None outside of the hospital at least. It was depressing.

_I'm beginning to lose hope in finding good foster parents. I know that I need to go to a family of some sort, but none of these families are right for me. Maybe I'm setting my standards too high. Maybe I should just settle for a family that seems nice. After all, I'll only be with them for a little while. I'm beginning to think that my criteria for parents isn't something that matters. As long as the new parents don't beat me, I should be happy. Right? I'm sure that I could find something I like in all of the families that have come to visit me. If only I tried to let them in. I wish I could live with Miss Telle, or maybe even Dr. Neil. He's a nice guy. I would never leave this place if I had the choice._

Dr. Neil's hear shattered as he read the paragraph again and again. He had children jerk at his heart, but never had he heard of a child that thought of him as a father figure. It was a shock to his entire system. He decided he would visit Harry in his hospital room to see how he was emotionally developing outside of his office. His bed was empty. Miss Telle informed him that he was with his foster parents, getting all the paperwork filled out._  
_


End file.
